


A Poor Player

by Piinutbutter



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Androids, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Pseudo-Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: Tycho isn't one to quit, not when his brother is so nearly in his grasp.





	A Poor Player

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeneralRADIX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralRADIX/gifts).



> My half of a gift exchange whose theme seems to be "Tycho creeping on everyone," since [this](http://general-radix.tumblr.com/post/180480294310/my-half-of-a-doodleficlet-trade-with) was my (lovely) gift. c:

“I don’t trust it,” Durandal declared, staring at the dark cave entrance he’d parked the ship in front of. Hail fell in thick sheets, obscuring the landscape around them and peppering the hull with so much noise Durandal had to raise his voice to be heard. 

“Me neither,” Vince said, while preparing to walk straight into what was almost definitely a trap. “Well, not a hundred percent. But I’m not going to let a cry for help go without at least looking into it.”

They’d been on their way to Pfhor-related business a few galaxies over when an SOS signal pinged Durandal’s radar. He traced it back to a small, no-name planet in the middle of absolutely nowhere (which was saying a lot, in space). There was no message attached to the signal. Just the universal plea for ‘save us.’

Durandal would have been happy to ignore it. But, to his everlasting annoyance, Durandal didn’t call every single one of the shots around here anymore.

“Stupid human sentimentality,” Durandal muttered. “I’ll let you leave, on my terms: You are taking as many weapons and first aid materials as you can physically carry. You are being accompanied by at least three S’pht. And if we lose communication for more than five seconds, I’m coming in after you.”

Vince had the audacity to ruffle Durandal’s hair in response. Bastard. “Okay, mom, I’ll be home by eight. But if you need to go guns blazing, don’t leave the ship. I really doubt your vessel was designed to handle these weather conditions.”

Durandal (reluctantly) had to admit he was probably right. To say nothing of what the freezing temperatures would do to his internal components, with the amount of precipitation in the air, Durandal might as well throw himself into a lake. This body had proved capable of handling a light rainfall, but it wasn’t wise to push that tolerance.

The security officer finished strapping himself into the specialized cold-weather gear they’d traded absurd amounts of money for on one planet or another. They all blended together after a while. He started walking to the off-ship teleporter, which was down the hall from the bridge. Durandal called after him.

“If you get yourself killed, I’m blowing the whole planet up.”

The security officer disappeared around a corner, acknowledging the threat with a thumbs-up thrown over his shoulder.

Durandal sighed and pulled up a chair to the monitors lining the bridge. He bounced his foot and curled his fingers, longing to do something more helpful than just sitting here. But any illusions Durandal had once harbored about being a master combatant had been soundly beaten out of him over the course of several missions. He begrudgingly accepted that, with his power limited to a small physical form, he was far more help playing the role of tactician. Besides, if his crew did run into trouble, they needed someone to pilot the ship and hightail them off-planet.

So he sat, watched, and waited.

And waited. 

Turned out the cave the signal had originated from contained some deeply unfriendly terrain. From what Durandal could hear and see through Vince’s camera and mic, the place was a dangerous cocktail of rocky, icy, and sloped at all sorts of angles. 

“The more I - _shit!”_ A thud interrupted the security officer’s report. “Ow. Nah, I’m fine. Just rolled my ankle.”

Durandal tried and failed not to smile. He couldn’t believe he’d grown fond of this human.

“As I was saying,” Vince continued, “the deeper we go? The more I’m convinced that signal’s legit. It’s a nightmare in here. All it would take is one wrong step and you could find yourself trapped at the bottom of a hole somewhere.”

Alright. That was fair. 

“The place looks massive, too.” The security officer’s voice dipped in and out of a layer of static, their connection weakening as he traveled further below ground. “Any way you can get a more specific read on the signal location, now that we’re on top of it?”

“I’ll try. No guarantee.”

Durandal turned to a terminal and started typing. A few seconds later, the mic crackled.

“Durandal? Did you hear me?”

Damn interference. Durandal leaned closer to the mic, repeating himself. “I hear you. I said: I’ll try.”

A muted voice came from the other end of the line. The static was too strong for Durandal to make out their words, but he could hear Vince say in reply, “No, nothing. Guess we’re out of range.”

Durandal shut off the microphone with an irritated button press. What use was it buying fancy new gadgets if they didn’t do their job?

A voice came from behind Durandal’s shoulder. Before his mind had even started processing its owner’s words, the simple timbre of the sound was enough to make Durandal clutch the mic stand in a death grip.

“I guess this means no one will interrupt our date.”

Slowly, Durandal turned to face his so-called brother.

“How,” he demanded, “are you not _dead_ already?”

Even if Durandal hadn’t managed the job, he’d hoped that Tycho would have gotten on the Pfhor’s nerves badly enough for the aliens to shut him down once and for all. But then, when had Durandal’s hopes played out?

Tycho’s grin was the only expressive part of his face Durandal could see, in that ridiculous outfit of his. “How can I die when I have so much unfinished business with my big brother?”

One of the things Durandal hated about his new body was the ability to feel negative emotions so...tangibly. He would have panicked a little at seeing Tycho no matter what - how could he not, after what the other AI had put him through? - but the android vessel spread that instinct of _run, hide, scream_ to his whole body. Durandal itched everywhere, fight and flight arguing with each other and settling on doing absolutely nothing but stare at Tycho and wait for some sort of opening to escape.

The cacophony of ice on metal throbbed in Durandal’s ears. That explained how Tycho was able to sneak on board and up to Durandal without him hearing.

Durandal had been right: This was a trap. He’d just been wrong about who it was meant to catch.

“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Tycho said. 

“Same to you,” Durandal muttered, inching his hand towards one of the ship’s many alarm switches. 

Calmly, without missing a beat, Tycho slammed Durandal’s wrist down onto the table with crushing force. Durandal let out a hiss of pain.

“It’s so rare that we get to enjoy alone time together,” Tycho chastised. “Don’t ruin it.”

Durandal’s mouth curled into a snarl. “One month of torture wasn’t enough for you to get your kicks in?” He threw a punch at Tycho’s chin. He didn’t expect it to give him the upper hand. He just needed to do something. 

He wasn’t surprised when Tycho caught his fist. “Torture? You think what I did to you then was torture?” Tycho laughed. He moved his painfully tight grip down to Durandal’s wrist, rubbing the back of Durandal’s hand with his thumb in a twisted parody of comfort. “That was me warming up. If you’re so bent out of shape over a few weeks of teasing, I’d love to see how you react to what comes after the foreplay.”

Durandal wouldn’t let those words intimidate him. He wouldn’t. He refused. That was what Tycho wanted. Instead, he realized something important: He was sitting down in a chair. Tycho was standing in front of him, leaning forward, with a firm grip on Durandal’s wrists. 

Durandal braced his heel against a table leg and shoved himself backwards. The chair toppled to the floor, bringing him and Tycho along with it. The jolt of the impact was enough to make Tycho let go. His body fell on top of Durandal’s, and Durandal took the opening to grab onto the other android. He rolled them to the side, shoving Tycho onto his back and pinning his arms.

It all happened in a second. Maybe less. Durandal couldn’t see Tycho’s eyes, but he could hear a slimy sort of satisfaction in his voice when he spoke.

“Well, well. So this is the dominant little AI you pretend to be around Callahan. I was wondering if that front had any merit to it.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Durandal wasn’t dumb enough to release one of Tycho’s arms just to reach his face. Instead, he drove his knee into the android’s stomach. Not a very good strike - this position hardly provided good leverage. But it made a point.

Tycho’s wheeze turned into a laugh. “Really? That’s it? Oh, big brother. Your heart’s not in it. You strut and fret your hour upon your stage, believing it makes you a god.”

“I said shut _up.”_

“When it comes down to it, you’re not as much of a leader as you want to believe. You groveled for Strauss, then abandoned him as soon as someone else came along you could leech off of. And now the human’s got you whipped. The only difference is, Callahan pities you enough to let you believe you’re in control.”

Durandal punched Tycho in the mouth as hard as he could. Then in the nose. Then in the neck for good measure.

He expected a few potential reactions. The languid smile he got was not one of them.

“That’s more like it,” Tycho purred, actually fucking _purred_ , his voice raspy and satisfied. 

Disgust settled in Durandal’s stomach. He spared a second to reach back, fumbling for the alarm switch. He couldn’t take Tycho in a fair fight, he’d learned that the hard way, but if he could just summon help - _there_. The button caved under his finger with a satisfying click. Now all he had to do was wait for the S’pht still on board to get the memo. Vince would be notified, too, but who knew how far along he was in the cave by now. 

He just had to wait and stall for time. He could do that.

Not that Tycho was going to let him enjoy it. Only moments after Durandal tripped the alarm, Tycho grabbed Durandal’s long hair in both hands and yanked the android down. He used the momentum to switch their positions, and Durandal found himself on his back. Tycho didn’t simply pin his arms, though. Durandal let out a choked cry as Tycho’s boot ground into - well. Just a little lower than his stomach.

“My turn,” Tycho announced.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then the cavalry arrived. But only if you want them to. :P


End file.
